


In Search of New Dreams

by frumious_bandersnatch



Category: Supernatural
Genre: A/B/O, Bees, Dean deserves something nice and fluffy for once, Domestic, M/M, Multi, Scenting, just fluff, like very small, practically a village, small town life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-04
Updated: 2021-01-04
Packaged: 2021-03-14 21:20:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28552257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frumious_bandersnatch/pseuds/frumious_bandersnatch
Summary: Dean had never thought  he’d live to retire. He definitely didn’t think these would be the people (demons) he’d be retiring with.
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Alastair/Cain
Comments: 7
Kudos: 10





	In Search of New Dreams

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ArthursKnight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArthursKnight/gifts).



> Title taken from ‘As the World Falls Down’ by David Bowie

The day was warm, the air sweet, the sun shining honey-colored down through the sheer white curtains in the bedroom. It was a little house. Isolated, with a few acres of property- a proper apiary, some blackberry bushes, a creek perfect for fishing.

Any outdoorsman’s dream. Far enough from the nearest town that the only sounds were from nature, or from something you did yourself. No cars, no traffic, no light pollution, the only hint you ever got of the outside world without venturing in was the fireworks that lit up the sky on the Fourth of July.

Dean was beyond comfortable. Beyond cared for, beyond content. The blankets heaped over him were a soft weight, combined with being held, was perfect. 

He liked it. Being held. Weight around him. That also translated to liking being tied down- not being able to move, wrapped up so tight and perfectly serene.

Whoever was holding him nestled closer- scratch of a beard against the top of his shoulder, long fingers trailing down his sides. 

Dean groaned out something unintelligible, voice still rasped by sleep.

That earned him a long, slow chuckle. “Hm, good morning, Dean. Did we sleep well last night?”

Dean smiled lazily. He took a few seconds more just to relax back, just to blink open his eyes against the soft glow of the sun. “Mhm. Hh- s’Cain?”

They would have been kidding themselves to expect a fully coherent sentence from the omega before he had coffee.

“Tending the bees. Woke me up on his way out, too, the bastard.” Alastair murmured, obviously not too upset as evidenced by the soft mirth in his voice. He kissed at Dean’s neck, teeth scraping over the mating mark he’d left so many years before. He delighted in the pleased shudder Dean gave in response. 

“You smell just about due for your heat.” Alastair decided, taking in Dean’s unique scent- gunpowder and leather and something soft cutting through it all, almost like dried lavender. He loved it. 

“‘Bout four days. According to the tracker app.” 

“Mm.” Alastair slowly sat up, bringing Dean with him, into his lap. “I can’t wait. I’m sure Cain can’t, either. I’ll take some time off.” Because he still did have to go down to Hell, sometimes, could never fully weasel his way out.

Turns out Sam didn’t quite kill him- not all the way. Funny how a near-death experience changes your perspective on things. 

The fact he ended up in bed with Dean, ended up caring and loving  _ healthily _ , was...more than he deserved. But the three of them were happy, and whatever Sam was doing with Castiel Crowley- Alastair assumed they were happy too. He tended not to be asked along to the monthly meetings, and when he was, it tended to be awkward. He was alright with that. He’d never liked Crowley anyways. 

“Breakfast?” He offered. “I’ll cook, while you get dressed?”

Dean nodded, tilting his head back and kissing at Alastair’s cheek. “Sounds like a plan.” He rumbled, grunting as he pushed himself out of bed and up to his feet. 

“God, Al, what did you two do to me last night?” He asked, wincing.

“Fucked you within an inch of your life, if I remember correctly. Put something nice on, would you? We’re, hm, going into town. Need milk and flour. Sugar. Might be able to talk Cain into going out for lunch, maybe dinner?”

“The little diner on Main Street? Yes please.” Dean chuckled, before groaning again and reaching back to feel at a welt on his ass. “Gonna take a shower.”

Alastair stood, dressed himself with a snap of his fingers. “Sounds like a good idea to me. Breakfast will be set out when you’re down.”

The shower was heaven on Dean’s back. Warm water and steam and the perfect way to wake up, really. He even used Cain’s shampoo. The demon was just about as anal about it as Sammy had been about his. And Dean took just as much stupid pride in stealing it as he had with stealing Sam’s. 

Getting dressed nicely, according to Alastair, meant slacks and a button up. Button up could be a flannel- but not one of the questionable ones in the laundry bin, which is what he usually went for. 

So. Slate grey slacks, with forest green silk panties fit especially for him- they were damn comfortable, and he’d be lying if he said the idea of wearing them underneath everything didn’t turn him right the fuck on. 

A plain flannel- a muted jasper sort of color, with the sleeves rolled up past the elbows. 

And he combed his hair, took a few minutes deciding between a side part and spiking it (he chose the latter), and then he walked downstairs.

Cain had come inside, was already sitting down at the kitchen table and nursing his usual cup of tea sweetened with a spoonful of honey. He smiled when he saw Dean, humming. “Good morning.” He greeted somewhat curtly, setting down the mug so he could stand.

“Good morning,” Dean echoed, giving a shy smile in turn as he drifted over and wrapped his arms around the demon. 

“Real affectionate today, huh?” Cain chuckled softly, bringing his arms up to pull Dean a little closer. 

Dean buried his face in the crook of Cain’s neck, scenting him and humming. Honey and tea and smoke and just the barest hint of sulfur, like a freshly struck match. “Mhm. Heard we were going into town this afternoon?”

“Uhuh. I take it Al wants to make it more of an outing?” Cain chuckled.

“Maybe.” Dean grinned against Cain’s skin, placing a soft kiss to his neck and pulling away.

Alastair simply hummed from where he was watching the waffle-maker. “I like going out. We should do it more often.”

“You, Mr. ‘Earth is an arctic craphole’, like going out? Times really are a’changing.” Cain smirked slightly.

“It grew on me.” Alastair shrugged, brows raised as he straightened. “The cottage is, hm, nice and all,”

“But Al likes people watching and I like eating crap food.” Dean finished. “Speaking of which- waffles?”

Alastair gestured to the plate of still steaming waffles set out at Dean’s spot at the table, butter and syrup placed next to them. 

“Ooh. You know- never thought of you as a demon who could cook.” Dean hummed as he flopped down in his chair, immediately starting prepping (pad of butter on each waffle, whole thing doused in syrup) before he started eating. 

“Dean, your flattery, it’s too much.” Alastair drawled sarcastically, setting down a mug of coffee (black) in front of Dean as well. “You wound me.”

“S’not an insult, s’jus’ tha’ m’surprised by it.” Dean mumbled through a mouthful of waffle before he swallowed and smiled. 

“Don’t talk with your mouth full.” Cain said, almost subconsciously, before he went back to sipping at his coffee. “Don’t see why we can’t stop for lunch, if it means that much to you. It’s not like I’d keep you from it.”

So they did. Walked through the little town that really should have dried up when the steel mill that had built it went out of business- but was still small and quaint and happy, with the forest and mountain roads around it, the river nearby.

It was perfect. Dean loved it. Loved being able to settle down, to not really worry about the outside world. It was simple, and that was what he needed. What he wanted, after the life he’d had. 

They got the groceries they needed- milk and flour and eggs and, just as a treat, a little plastic box with some orange-cranberry scones.

And as Alastair ferried the purchases back to the house (disappeared, there and back in less than a minute), Dean and Cain started walking for the diner.

“You have…” Cain started, “No idea how happy you make me, Dean. Make us, happy.” He rumbled. “Something neither Alastair or I have had in a long time. Thank you.” His voice dropped to a soft murmur, arm still wrapped lightly around his mate’s waist.

“I know. I know. Gonna have to thank you too. You’re the reason I was able to stop hunting. Retire. Have...have a life, white picket fence and all. So. Thank  _ you _ .” Dean cleared his throat, slipping out of Cain’s hold so he could hold open the door to the diner. 

And that was nice, too. Dean got himself a bacon cheeseburger, side of fries, glass of coke. Maybe a bit too much for lunch- but hey, it was what he’d always gotten at greasy spoons like this, so what the hell. Might as well indulge. 

He watched as Alastair picked half-heartedly at a turkey bacon club- he’d felt the need to order even though for all his skill (according to Dean) in cooking he didn’t really enjoy eating. Sometimes, sure, but after being not very human for so very long it felt odd. 

Cain seemed to be still in the breakfast mood- got hash browns and eggs and some sourdough toast. 

And they talked- goings-on in Hell, how the bees were faring, harvest on the berry bushes, the old Stingray for sale two towns over Dean had an eye on and half a mind to buy it and restore it. 

Laughing, talking, genuine joy in their eyes, these three people that never for once in their lives thought they would have something like this. And that was nice, too. 


End file.
